


A Rather Unorthodox Partnership

by Steph_R94



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Masks, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph_R94/pseuds/Steph_R94
Summary: At 17, Maka made tabloids by being the youngest meister to ever train a Death Scythe. At 19, she’ll make tabloids again for the way she had her new weapon came together. But even as Soul Evans threatens to make her once relatively peaceful life a circus, she can’t bring herself to regret it.





	A Rather Unorthodox Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> ((This started as a response to Day 4 of the Soma NSFW week, but is threatening to turn into a full length story. If you are wondering, the prompt was Masks.))

                Soul hated parties. They were a waste of time filled with grand standing and just typical showing off. He had never been to one that he actually enjoyed. Why his family even insisted on throwing this party “for him”, he didn’t know. If it had been up to him, he would have spent his 19th birthday drinking beer with Black Star at the pub. Instead, he had been forced into a suite by his “well-meaning” mother and handed a mask that was a little too on point for him. He slipped a finger underneath the demon mask and scratched his nose.

                It was a grotesque little thing. The entirety of the mask was red; black horns curled up from the top of his mask. The edges of the mask were lace black diamonds. He felt stupid. It was uncomfortably tight around his nose. He sighed deeply and raised his wine glass to his lips. Wine was another commodity he would prefer to do without.

                He glanced over the rim of his glass and found emerald green eyes across the room. Another person stood just as uncomfortable as he was. His lips twitched in amusement as he saw her mask. It was almost like the universe demanded he go talk to her by her mask alone. Angel wings branched off the side of her mask; yellow lattice rimmed the edges of her mask. Her lips twitched as she took in his mask. Shamelessly, he took in the rest of her.

                Unlike most of the women roaming around the party, her dress was simple. Tiny, white straps held the flowing, bunched fabric up; while a band of white elastic seemed to hold the dress in place around her waist. The rest of the dress flowed out around her hips. It reminded him of the paintings of angels, but he supposed she had intended for it to. White, heeled sandals graced her tiny feet. Her toes, he noted with a smirk, were painted gold. He moved his gaze back up her body and found her eyes. His mouth parted slightly at being caught checking her out so blatantly.  

                His eyes widened as she began to move toward him. He watched, almost transfixed, as she moved through the crowd. The skirt of her dress swished around her legs as she dodged dancing party goers. She moved gracefully…and with a swiftness that only could belong to a meister. It took her no time at all to be in front of him.

                “Aren’t you the birthday boy?” She asked once she stopped in front him. She smiled almost flirtingly and said, “You don’t look as though you are having a lot of fun.” Up close, he could see the little, light golden lines along the bottom of the skirt. His mouth ran dry as she looked up at him through lashes.  

                “Not my kind of party,” he acknowledged. He gave her a pointed look. “Doesn’t look like yours either.” The woman shook her head.  

                “No.” She motioned with her thumb across the room to two blondes talking rather animatedly with a black headed man. “My friend drug me out.”

                “Homebody?” He guessed. She blushed and nodded. Soul shrugged his shoulders.

                “Can’t blame you,” Soul gave. “I’d rather be anywhere than here too.” The woman giggled. Soul became aware almost immediately how much his statement sounded like a pick-up line, but he did not bother to retract the statement. This woman drew him in. Something about her quiet grace, her discomfort in this setting, and the way she kept looking up at him like that made him want to get to know her better. If she wanted him in that manner, he was not about to discourage her. Besides, the little flush to her cheeks was adorable. She bit her lip and shifted her eyes off of him. Soul worried for a second that he had ruined the thing that had been building between them, but then…something passed through her eyes—a type of steel that he had never seen before. She looked back at him with a different kind of smile. 

                “I’m Maka Albarn,” she introduced herself, sticking her hand out for him to shake. Soul smirked and took her small, slender hand in his own.

                “Soul Evans,” he introduced himself as well, though it was needless. She smiled. He caressed her fingers as he pulled his hand away from hers. A small shiver rippled down her spine. 

                “What is your kind of party?” Maka asked him.

                “I can show you if you’d like,” Soul returned. The air around them turned thick once more with sexual tension.

                “I would like that,” she said, not even bothering to hide the breathlessness in her tone. Soul smiled and extended his hand again. She took it and let him lead her from the busy hall. As he walked, he worked up the courage to do what he had implied would happen.

                Soul, despite all of his bravado, was not a ladies’ man. He had only ever been with one woman and she had requested he keep his mouth closed. She would not even kiss him because she was afraid of his teeth. He understood her fear, of course. His teeth were sharp and pointed, more like a shark’s teeth than human. It was still frustrating though. He had decided then that he did not want to be with someone who could not embrace all of him. It just didn’t fit with him.

                They reached his room a little too soon. His courage faltered as he opened his bedroom door and she stepped inside. Maka licked her lips before she turned to face him. He opened his mouth to reassure her that she could back out if she wanted; he would not hold it against hers; but her mouth slanted over his. His eyes widened slightly before the softness of her lips stole his worries. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers in return.

                Maka could feel the strangeness of his teeth as they pressed against his lips, but it only excited her. She knew she was strange, but Maka had always dug weird. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and took advantage of his surprised gasp. She teasingly withdrew her tongue. She let out a quiet gasp as his tongue chased hers. Her hands left from his biceps around to the front of his suit jackets. While their mouths were pressed together, tongues challenging one another, she worked the buttons loose.

                Soul couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his lips as her tongue slid over his and into his mouth. She ran her tongue fearlessly over his teeth as she caressed his tongue with hers. He shrugged off his coat and let it fall to the floor. Then, he brought his hands to the back of knees and swept her up onto his hips. They both let out a gasp as she ground onto his hips.

                “Naughty little angel, aren’t you?” He groaned as he felt her unrestricted against him. The little angel had gone nude underneath her dress.

                “No matter what I wore, there were lines,” she gasped out an explanation as he moved his mouth along her neck and exposed collarbones. He discovered almost immediately that her most sensitive spot was at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He made sure to pay homage to it, even as her quick, sneaky fingers popped the buttons of his shirt.

                He turned them and pressed her back against his door. She gave a quiet, excited moan and jerked his shirt open the rest of the way. Buttons scattered across the room. Soul pulled back. He had intended to shed the mangled fabric, but one look at her face almost made him laugh. It was clear that her incredibly hot move had not been intention. The sudden change in position must have surprised her. The flush on her face spread.

                “I’m sorry!” She squeaked. Soul smirked and kissed her.

                “Its fine,” he promised as he rested his forehead against hers. “That was pretty hot.” He informed her as he moved his mouth down her cheek and to her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth and pressed his hips tighter to hers. She mewled in his ear. He smirked. “Besides, I have plenty more in the closet.”

                “Good,” she gasped out as he attacked that place again. She arched up into him. The heat of his body that she could feel through the thin fabric of her dress was fantastic. She smirked. If he thought her going panty-less was naughty, he was going to be positively scandalized to realize she had gone braless too. The dress had been thick enough and baggy enough to hide her braless state.

                His hands pushed higher up her thighs. She knew he was going to find out soon. She lifted her arms and the dress came off. She heard his gasp and smirked.

                “Hmm, I think you chose the wrong mask,” he commented as his hands cupped her breasts. She arched just a little further into his hands.

                “Not at all,” she responded through a gasp as his fingers pinched her nipples. Her fingers fell to his belt and, after some struggling, unbuckled it. Soul took over and unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. Before he could even move his hands, one slender hand snaked down into his suit pants and grabbed him. He hissed and pushed into her hand. “It looks like you chose the perfect one.” She teased him. He would have teased her back, but her hand slowly working along him had stolen the words from his mouth. She squealed as he pulled her off the wall and flopped her down onto the bed. She watched him as he opened his drawer and pulled out a condom. He felt awkward as she watched him roll it on, but that awkwardness turned to lust as she began to touch herself. He stared as she ran her fingers between her legs and slid her fingers over her clit.

                He swatted her hand lightly and settled between her opened legs. “You sure you wanna do this?” He asked, wanting to give her a final choice. The answer she gave him stole the breath from his lungs. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed him into her. Her wet heat surrounded him so suddenly that he nearly went cross eyed, but her expression kept him from moving. “You weren’t…”

                “No,” she gasped out, “but it has been a while.” Soul understood that.

                “Me too,” he reassured her as he leaned down and pressed his head against hers. It only occurred to him now that they were both still in their masks and nothing else. His lips curved into a smirk. He was fairly certain that his parents hadn’t intended for this to happen when they announced a masquerade party.

                His breath hitched again as she moved her hips. She sank down to the mattress and then surged back up. That was all the signal he needed to move. He was aware that he was making love to her, not fucking or just sex. He stared into her eyes and watched the tears gather there. Her arms rose up and curled around his neck. She pulled him down. He pressed kisses along her neck and pulled the skin into his mouth, leaving a dark hickey—evidence of his being there.

                The room filled with the sounds of their moans, quiet whispers of instruction, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh. The sounds built the closer they got the edge and reached their climax as the two did. Soul followed Maka over the edge, but stayed inside of her as he calmed down. Maka’s arms stayed around him; he could feel her hands roaming up and down his back. Once the shaking of his legs had subsided, he pulled out of her and rolled onto the bed beside her.

                They looked over at one another for a moment before she giggled. She reached up and lifted the mask off of his face before she flung her own off.

                “Do you have anywhere I can get cleaned up?” She asked.

                “My bathroom’s through that door,” he told her as he pointed toward a door nestled between a bookshelf and the wall. He watched her as she got up and walked to the bathroom. He heard the sound of water running and then tuned it out. He got up and pulled the condom off and threw it away. He took a tissue from off the dresser and cleaned himself up; then, he returned to his bed and laid down.

                As he stared up at the ceiling, he wondered if she would stay with him or if she would leave. The bathroom door opened. He looked over at her and waited for his answer. She climbed onto the bed next to him almost gingerly. He opened his arms and pulled her down. She smiled and settled into his arms.

                Maka closed her eyes and listened to his heart, listened to his soul. She could feel chaos there, but then again…she had felt it from across that ballroom. She could feel it. He hated his life in this stifling mansion. When she was younger, she would have snorted that anyone could possibly feel so trapped in a place like this where every opportunity was offered to you without hardly any work; but she had learned as she had aged. Despite the possible weirdness and the thought she hardly knew him, the offer dangled on her tongue.

                Her faithful companion since fifteen had moved on from her as she should have. After two years of training with Maka and going on mission after mission, Kimmy and she had finally achieved their dream. Kimmy was a Death Scythe; Maka had been the youngest meister in history—hardly seventeen—to train a Death Scythe. She had surpassed her mother. Kimmy stayed in their apartment for two years more after that. She had only just moved out last week…and the two bedroom apartment was lonelier for it.

                But she wasn’t that lonely yet. This urge to offer him a place to get away was nothing but foolhardy. Despite having known him intimately just mere seconds ago, she did not know him. Even though his soul pulsed that she did. His wavelength was laid bare before her; and Maka knew how to read it.

                “You are a meister, aren’t you?” Soul broke the silence. Maka nodded. “You got a weapon?”

                “Not anymore,” Maka said honestly. She felt rather than saw Soul tilt his head.

                “What happened?”                                                               

                “She is currently in Africa serving that district as a Death Scythe.” Maka didn’t see the point in skimming words. She felt him tense and counted the seconds in her head for him to realize just what that meant. Though she didn’t consider herself one, many of the people she encountered considered her a celebrity. That was why the invitation to this party had landed in her mailbox. Somehow, her training a Death Scythe had made her a part of the “It” crowd. It was ironic really. For years, the “It” crowd had basically turned their noses up at the sight of her because being a meister left one beaten, bruised, and scarred more often than not. It was not pretty work; and, therefore, not worthy of their attention unless they somehow needed her assistance. So, it rather strange for her to suddenly become a celebrity.

                Death supposed it was due to her age and who her mother was. She had not known that her mother came from one of the wealthier families in their area; her grandparents had saw it fit to humor their daughter’s “strange” desires to become a meister and had funded her throughout school. It wasn’t until she had married Spirit that they had disowned her. It was a hell of an experience to learn it through a tabloid after she herself had made the front page of said magazines.

                “I knew I recognized you from somewhere…” Soul muttered. Maka relaxed only because his tone did not change. There was nothing star struck about his tone; he didn’t sound resentful or petty about her fame. He just sounded…like he had when they met.

                “You mean once the masks came off?” She teased, poking him in the ribs. He chuckled.

                “I was a little preoccupied,” he argued casually as he grabbed her wandering finger. It wouldn’t do for her to find that one ticklish spot along his rib cage. She propped up on her elbow. Yeah, he could see a little more now than when part of her face had been obscured by the mask. He supposed he should have known by the fierceness that seemed to stay in those green eyes even when they were making love. He had known from the moment he had met her that she was not like ordinary women….and that is what made her so damn attractive to him. There was a wildness to her that spoke directly to his blood.

                “I bet.” She responded.  “Wait…I gave you my name?” Soul knew what she asking. How did he see the pictures without knowing her name?

                “I never read the articles,” Soul told her. “I was…looking for other things.” Maka snorted; amusement danced in her eyes.

                “Sorry, handsome. I’m afraid there are no pin-ups of me,” she teased. A slight blush stained his cheeks, but a filthy smirk crossed his lips.  

                “Ah, they would have spoiled the surprise anyway.” He pinched her side in retaliation. Maka squealed and squeezed closer to him. “Ticklish?”

                “No,” Maka grumbled as she snatched a pillow to cover her sides. Soul laughed. Before he could get any ideas, Maka turned the conversation back to weapons and meisters. “Are you looking for a meister?”

                “I suppose I am.” His answer had Maka wriggling. Soul moved his hand from off her hip and let her scoot back to his headboard. He tilted his head back so that he could look up at her. There were those eyes. The ones he saw staring out at him from what felt like thousands of magazines: the eyes of a meister, a predator if he ever saw one. He wasn’t going to lie; that stare did things for him. 

                “There is no suppose,” Maka told him sternly, breaking through the haze of lust that gaze stirred within him. “You have commit to being a weapon…no matter who the meister is because their lives depend on you…and yours on theirs. It’s a partnership and one hell of a commitment. I could go into the specifics of what it means to be an active weapon, but I feel like it would only bore you.”

                “Not at all.”

                “First, you have to know what you are looking for in a meister. It shouldn’t just be about looks or size. Even the smallest meister is capable of wielding the largest weapon with training. Base the decision on who you choose by the soul.”

                “The soul?”

                “Miesters and weapons are able to resonate together. It’s a merging of the soul wavelength. Open your mind, focus on me, and you should be able to feel me.” He smirked. She knew without having to study his soul that he was thinking that he already had. “Be serious,” she snorted. His smirk dropped and he did as she had told him.

                Maka couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her when she felt him. Being able to read his soul and feeling it were too different things. She could see the chaos in his soul, but didn’t know how to identify the emotions that made it that way unless she was open to him and him to her. His loneliness, his anger, his sadness, and his feelings of inferiority all flowed into her.

                Likewise, she knew her own emotions—those she had buried flowed into him. She knew he could feel the depths of her loneliness—so deep and so penetrating that it had led her to seek comfort in the arms of a stranger who couldn’t see her face, her fame; he could feel her fear of vulnerability and knew in that instant how hard opening herself to him like this was for her.

                The connection only lasted a few seconds. Their wavelengths, though having some things in common, were not well trained to mesh with one another. The link broke and suddenly they were themselves again.

                “Soul resonance is more intimate than sex,” she said once she had regained her equilibrium. “It opens up parts of yourself to your partner that sex couldn’t reveal. Do you think you are ready for something like that?” She asked as she opened her eyes. Soul stared back at her. The look in his eyes caused her heart to flutter.

                “If it is with you, then I know I can handle it.” Though the intensity of his words caused her heart to race and her skin to flush, she felt the need to say:

                “We can have sex without you being my partner.” For a second, her statement shocked him. She pursed her lips after the statement left her mouth. She had felt from his soul—just that brief glimpse—that he wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t enter into something like this just because they might have sex. His brows dipped down.

                “I’m not that kind of guy.”

                “I know,” she reassured him. A small silence fell between them. 

                “It’s a rather unorthodox way of starting a partnership,” she warned him while diligently ignoring the other parts about this conversation that were unorthodox. She had never heard of a partnership starting where both weapon and meister were naked as the day they were born. “We’ll have to go through trails with Lord Death to prove that we aren’t doing it for the wrong reasons.” He paused for a second. Maka held her breath and hoped she hadn’t just made him change his mind. Despite the points she was making that she knew sounded a lot like protests, she did want Soul as her partner.

                “I’m sure you’ll teach me everything you can before that happens.” He said; his eyes stayed locked on hers. Despite her vow to give others the privacy that Stein stripped them of, she couldn’t help but look at his soul. The chaos that had once made it jittery and wavering had eased. How sound did he have to be in his decision to be her weapon to make his soul quieten? She nodded.

                “Okay.” She agreed. “You’ll be my weapon.”

                “Cool,” Soul muttered. “Will you come back down here now? My neck is starting to get a crick.” Maka rolled her eyes and scooted down back to his side.

                _‘I get the feeling this partnership is going to come with constant migraines,’_ she thought. His arms came up around her and a pleasant warmth flooded her entire being. _‘But…it won’t be without merit.’_


End file.
